


The Infamous Case of Samnesia

by spookyskittles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Secret Relationship, Shipper!Sam, Temporary Amnesia, Yeah thats right I slapped a holiday in there, because he has, but Sam thinks it's a, rated t for inappropriate amounts of food-based titles, shenanigans ensue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-04-29 18:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14478732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyskittles/pseuds/spookyskittles
Summary: Sam gets hit by a witch's spell working a case in Omaha, Nebraska. Though it causes only mild, temporary amnesia, being explicitly aware of it could potentially worsen the symptoms, so Dean and Cas have to keep mum about it. This doesn't help the amnesiac Sam, who starts trying to uncover their "secret" relationship.





	1. Doughnote

Sam woke up in the backseat of the Impala, brain fuzzy and aching in a vague but overwhelming way. When he straightened himself a sharp pain shot through his temple and he hissed and put a hand to his head reflexively.

"Good, you're awake," Dean's voice came from the driver's seat. Sam could make out someone riding shotgun through the haze.

"That's...," Dean took an apprehensive breath before he continued, "that's good."

"What happened?" Sam managed.

Dean's voice barely penetrated the thick fog clouding Sam's head. "You got hit with some spell. Cas already called Rowena. We'll figure this out."

Sam slipped back into unconsciousness.

\- - -

"It doesn't seem to be a long-lasting spell," a Scottish accent spoke, disembodied in the void of his mind. "Just give him some rest and he'll be back to his old spirits in a few days, poor dear."

Sam's eyes fluttered open. He was lying on the bed of a motel, sunlight streaming directly onto his face. He squinted through it and saw Dean and Rowena by his bedside.

"What's she doing here?" Sam asked pointedly.

Dean looked down at him, something that didn't happen too often. "I told you in the car, but maybe you were too out of it. You got a pretty nasty concussion last night after that witch hit you with—"

"—a spell," Sam finished. "What spell was it?"

Dean glanced at Rowena, who Sam swore gave his brother a tiny shake of her head.

"Well," Dean started, "Rowena looked you over and says it's only a...a, um..." He gestured helplessly with a hand.

"A spell inducing dizziness," Rowena finished.

Dean nodded. "Right, which is why you fell and got the concussion."

Rowena smiled at Sam and reached over to gently pat his shoulder. "You'll be right as rain soon enough, Samuel, don't you worry. Just rest up and don't strain yourself for a few days." She pulled back and sighed. "Well, I'll be off then."

"Thanks again," Dean said as she left, then turned back to Sam. "We're going to head back to the Bunker. You good to walk to the car?"

"Yeah," Sam affirmed, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed and getting to his feet. "A spell inducing dizziness, huh?" he added. "I feel fine, to be honest."

"Rowena said that might be the case," Dean replied, grabbing Sam's bag off the floor and tossing it over to him. "But she said to let you rest anyway, just as a precaution. Don't need to getting vertigo while we're hunting down werewolves."

"I guess," Sam agreed.

They left the cramped motel bedroom, which opened up into a wider space with a small living area and kitchen. Sam was surprised to see Cas standing behind a counter, pouring coffee into styrofoam travel mugs.

"How are you, Sam?" Cas asked. He looked sleepy, like he had just rolled out of bed, and his hair was all matted in the back. Sam had never seen him look so casually out of it.

"I'm good," Sam replied.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure, thanks." He took a seat at the little wooden kitchen table.

Dean pouted. "What am I, chop liver?" he complained, and Cas laughed so genuinely at this it took Sam by surprise, mostly because it really wasn't that funny.

Dean grinned and sauntered into the kitchen to grab his cup, immediately taking a swig from it.

"Son of a bitch!" he swore, pushing the cup away. "That's hot!"

Cas rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you expected, Dean."

"Seriously, Cas, what did you make this coffee with? The tears of Sauron?" Dean was grinning again.

Cas smirked back. "Maybe."

Sam could hardly believe what he was seeing. "You two sound like an old married couple," he murmured, amused.

Dean and Cas exchanged an odd look for a moment before Cas headed over to the table with two cups in his hands, Dean trailing close behind.

"Sorry," Sam apologized, getting the impression that he had made things awkward.

"No," Cas said in a curious way, sitting down and playing with the lid of his cup. "No, it's okay." He handed Sam the extra mug.

"So, we'll grab a quick breakfast and then get on the road?" Cas continued, changing the subject.

Dean nodded. "I saw a doughnut place just across the street. We should check it out."

Sam shrugged agreeably. "Sounds good."

"Dean and I will go do that then," Cas decided, rising and leaving his cup on the table.

Dean followed suit, taking a quick, searing sip of his coffee before he set it down. "All right, I guess. We'll be right back," he told Sam a bit fretfully.

"I'll be fine, Dean," Sam assured him, feeling a little left out as he watched them go. He supposed they probably didn't want him exerting himself unnecessarily—even though he really did feel fine—but it still made him feel a bit useless.

The coffee was too hot to drink, so he played a word game on his phone until he couldn't stand the taste of his morning breath any longer, which didn't take long. He bent over and fished his toothbrush out of his bag and got up to find the bathroom, which also didn't take long.

He found a curled tube of toothpaste out on the bathroom sink. The cap seemed to be missing, which was disconcerting. While he brushed his teeth, his eyes roamed the small area freely, taking in the grime caked around the faucet and the little cracks in the minty paint of the walls. He happened to notice a small, square piece of paper on the floor, and out of curiosity picked it up with his free hand, turning it over to inspect the other side. It was letterheaded motel stationary with a little note scrawled on the whitespace:

_Don't forget to take your pills. You always do when you worry but I won't let you this time you idiot!! :)_

It was somehow the most surreal piece of paper Sam had ever read, because for a split second he thought it was written in Cas's hand, but then he realized he wasn't familiar enough with Cas's handwriting to say, and the note was too sweet to be anything originating from Major Grump. He figured it must have been something left behind by the people previously renting out the room and tossed it in the trash.

Having little else to entertain himself with as he finished brushing, he opened the medicine cabinet, not expecting to find anything, and discovered only bare cabinet shelves. He spat in the sink, flushed the foam down the drain with a yank of the faucet, and headed back for the table.

He had hardly finished sitting down when Dean and Cas burst through the door, each carrying a box. Dean looked like he was about to short-circuit from glee.

"We got jelly doughnuts, Sam," he started excitedly. "They look," he made a _mwa_ gesture with his hands, "freaking amazing. The only way anyone could get me to eat fruit, after pie of course."

Cas set his box on the table, opening it to reveal a small variety of doughnuts; most with chocolate icing but a few powdered and glazed. "Of course," he agreed wryly.

"Hey, watch it, sunshine," Dean said with an exaggerated squint. "You're treading on thin ice." He opened his box but did not set it on the table. Presumably, all the jelly doughnuts were his. He picked one up and bit into it, and fruit preserves dribbled onto his hand.

"If everyone's packed up, we can leave now," Dean added, barely comprehensible.

Cas abandoned the table, taking only his coffee with him. "I'll go check and make sure we didn't leave anything behind in our room."

Our room?

It suddenly occurred to Sam that there were only two bedrooms, and one was his. Had Dean and Cas—? But no, Cas was heading for the bathroom; he must have been talking about the motel room in general. Sam shook his head at himself. What a weird conclusion to jump to; Cas didn't even need to sleep.

"Dean?" Cas called from the bathroom. "Did you take those vitamin-K pills?"

Pills? 

"No. Dammit, I forgot," Dean sighed around his doughnut.

"I thought I left you a note," Cas continued, "but I can't find it anywhere."

Sam was stunned.


	2. Strong Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love and support on the first chapter! I was so surprised by how many people were interested in my idea! Thanks for Umbreon and Crayons_and_Quills for the feedback as well. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy this next chapter! I finished it sooner than expected. More details on how Sam's curse works as the story goes on!

Don't forget to take your pills. You always do when you worry but I won't let you this time you idiot!! :)

Sam stared at the note he had, against his better judgement, fished out of the garbage can. It seemed innocuous now; it was just a friendly reminder. A friendly reminder from one friend to another that Sam could not for the life of him read in Cas's gravelly voice.

"Oh, dammit!" Cas cursed, as if on cue. Sam stuffed the note into the trash and jumped to his feet guiltily even though no one could see him through the closed door.

He left the bathroom to see what was wrong and was greeted by Cas's sopping figure. There was a large coffee stain down his front and the lid of his travel mug was lying in a modest, brown puddle on the floor.

"For god's sake, Cas," Dean shouted, hurrying from across the room with a fistful of complimentary motel napkins. "What happened?"

"The lid came loose," Cas grumbled, grabbing some napkins from Dean.

Dean noticed Sam standing outside the bathroom. "Hey, could you get a shirt from Cas's bag?" he asked.

"Sure," Sam said. "Where is it?"

Dean nodded over at the bag under the table beside Sam's. "Mine's already in the trunk," he explained.

Sam crouched by the table and opened Cas's bag, which had a little burrito keychain on the zipper, and pulled out the first piece of clothing he found. He unfolded it to make sure it was a shirt. It was a black tee with...a Metallica logo on it.

Sam frowned. "Dean, isn't this one of your old shirts?"

Dean and Cas looked up quickly. "Oh," Cas stammered. "That must not be my bag—"

"This is your stuff in here," Sam cut him off pointedly.

"The shirt probably got mixed up with Cas's laundry back at the Bunker," Dean posited.

"Probably," Sam agreed, but narrowed his eyes.

Dean huffed. "Look, it's fine, he can wear my shirt for now, at least until we get back home."

Sam handed Dean the Metallica shirt. "All right," he said warily, and went to zip Cas's bag up. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of the keychain's flip side. There was an inscription there, scribbled in cramped handwriting, and Sam turned the keychain to read it.

_Happy 1st, Cas! —Dean_

Sam held it up, puzzled by its existence. "I don't remember this. What's the 1st?"

"That's a good question," Cas said with a cough. "It was some little thing that had happened, and Dean got me the keychain as a joke. Can't recall what it was for though."

Dean nodded. "Something stupid, probably," he figured.

Sam had the distinct feeling both of them were lying to him, but let it go. "Should I put these bags in the trunk?" he offered, rising to his feet.

"Sure," Dean said. "I'll go with you; I need to get a plastic bag for this." He gestured broadly at Cas, who gave him a weary look, clearly flattered at being equivocated to a giant coffee stain.

"I'll just put this shirt with my other clothes," Cas declined.

Dean shook his head. "And this is exactly why I'm taking your bag away from you. Come on, Sammy," he prompted, slinging Cas's bag over his shoulder and heading for the door.

Sam grabbed his bag and followed him out as Cas picked the Metallica shirt off the tabletop and shook himself out of his trench coat.

It wasn't too bad outside, despite the sunniness. Dean moved around to the back of the Impala, squinting through the gleam of the sun off her paint as he opened the trunk and tossed Cas's duffel in next to his.

Sam stood beside his brother and let his bag join the others. "Vitamin-K pills?" he blurted as Dean fished out a plastic bag.

Dean tried to look at him, face still scrunched up from the overwhelming brightness. "Huh?"

"So you're taking vitamin-K pills now, then?"

"Oh," Dean said, closing up the trunk. "Yeah, as it happens there comes a point where you have to compensate for avoiding rabbit food your entire adult life. Go figure." He laughed a bit.

Sam hesitated before asking his next question. "Did Cas make you start taking them?"

Dean looked Sam over curiously for a moment before turning away with a shrug. "Maybe I just decided to do something good for myself for once."

Sam believed him.

\- - -

It wasn't going to be a terribly long drive from Omaha, Nebraska to Lebanon.

They pulled out of the motel driveway and left town. Dean was up front with Cas again, and Sam was in the backseat with a large pillow and the donuts. They were adamant that he rest up, no matter how many times he told them he really did feel all right.

It was these shorter trips that Sam enjoyed the most, when it felt like a pleasant journey past rolling scenery instead of a stifling experiment in how long a human could endure sitting in a metal box. Those were the treks he most wished Dean would relent and get plane tickets for, but he understood airplanes were Dean's clown cars; an absolutely forbidden means of transportation, even if airplanes were infinitely more practical than clown cars, or clowns in general.

Sam shuddered a little.

\- - -

After lunch—donuts and a quick stop for milkshakes—Sam felt drowsy enough to take a nap; a move that was much approved of by the other, more concerned members of the car. He woke up some time after but kept his eyes closed, too groggy to do anything else. Dean and Cas were talking to each other in the background.

"Do you think Sam knows?"

Sam froze.

"What?" That was Dean.

"Do you think he knows we're..." We're what?

"You mean, because he called us—?"

"Yeah." What had he called them?

"I mean, everyone says that, Cas, regardless of who's bickering." Ah. The old married couple comment. Wait—

"Do they?" Cas sounded skeptical.

"Sure. Plus, he didn't know what the keychain was from." Yes, he knew they were lying about that! "If he doesn't know that, I don't see why he would think—"

"Well," Cas cut him off, "maybe he knows one and not the other. Do you know what I mean?"

Dean huffed uncomfortably. "That's possible, I guess. Either way, we should play it safe and assume he knows nothing. I don't know how he would take it. Maybe he'd be fine, maybe he wouldn't, and that's not a risk I'm willing to take."

"Of course," Cas agreed.

Sam could hardly believe what he had just heard. Dean and Cas...were they...together? _Together_ together? And did they think there was a chance he wasn't an ally? How could they think that? Did he come across as homophobic somehow? Sam tried to think back, worried now.

Dean's voice cut through his train of thought.

"Hey, back in Omaha, when you tossed that witch's accomplice across the room—"

" _Dean—_ "

"That was," Dean made a guttural noise in the back of his throat, "that was something."

Cas sighed tiredly.

"What? You're like freaking Superman! A comparison that only makes me picture you in red spandex shorts..." Sam feared Dean would try and get it on right then and there, in the driver's seat, on a busy freeway.

Cas evidently feared this too. "Watch the road, Dean," he suggested.

"If that's all you want from me," Dean grumbled.

"And then maybe when we get back to the Bunker...," Cas started ambiguously.

He didn't finish.

Dean giggled.

_Giggled._

Sam was shocked. Absolutely flabbergasted. Dean and Cas were in some kind of secret relationship, and they had definitely...done it already. How long had this been going on? How had he never picked up on any of the signs until now?

It was taking all his willpower not to sit up and scream at them.

Why had they kept this from him??

He respected their right to their own privacy, of course, difficult as that was, but how could they think for a second he wouldn't support them?

Should he say something? _Hey, I was just eavesdropping. So you're having sex now? That's great. Been a long time coming._ Ah. No. He should say nothing. That sounded better. They could come to him when they were ready.

He sat up and pretended to yawn. Dean and Cas both jumped.

"Hey," Sam said, trying to sound sleepy. "I'm going to have a donut. Do either of you want one?"


	3. Sam's Scrambled Eggs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, lovely readers! Here's chapter three; may you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it!
> 
> Big thanks to Kudos_for_the_feels, selahbela, Umbreon, and Crayons_and_Quills for the feedback! And shoutout to guest Colleen+New+Holy for living in Nebraska, haha. ;D

"I'm worried."

Cas backed out of Netflix before the next episode could automatically start. He and Dean were winding down in the Dean Cave after the drive back to the Bunker, and though it was good to be home, the consequences of their hunt in Nebraska hung heavily over their heads.

"What are you worried about?" Cas asked.

Dean rubbed his forehead. "All of it? I don't like lying to Sam; I don't like pretending we're not together. It's just...exhausting. The things that happen sometimes." He shook his head. "This curse...losing his memory. That happened to me, and it was terrifying. I never wanted anything like that to happen to him."

Cas put his hand on Dean's shoulder and tried to comfort him. "The memories aren't lost, he just doesn't have access to them. How did Rowena describe it? Locked in his subconscious? We'll be able to safely break the spell in 48 hours."

"That's a long time," Dean pointed out. "A lot could go wrong in 48 hours, and if he finds out what mojo that witch really hit him with, then he really will lose those memories. Everything from the past two years. I can't let that happen."

"It won't happen," Cas assured him with such firm belief, Dean looked up at him in a bit of a stupor. "We'll get through these next two days without a hitch, and when we're able, we'll explain the entire situation to Sam; he'll understand, Dean. Everything will work out."

Dean hoped so.

\- - -

Things weren't working out.

Sam could smell burning toast as he tried to calm the hissing scrambled eggs in the frying pan while something beeped somewhere. His hand slipped and he burned a finger on the edge of the pan, and he cursed and shoved it into his mouth as he ran over to the counter and tried to wrestle the badly-singed pieces of bread from the toaster. He opened a cupboard and pulled out a plate to throw the toast onto, then turned to get some butter and in doing so knocked the butter knife onto the floor in his urgency. He picked it up, pitched it into the sink, and ran over to the other side of the kitchen to grab a new one, stubbing his toe against a bottom cupboard as he did so. He shouted and hopped back to the toast, but now the contents of the frying pan were audibly bubbling and he had to stumble over to the stove and remove the pan from the heat to prevent the eggs from potentially exploding. The beeping finally registered with him as coming from the waffle iron.

He swore mightily.

\- - -

Everything was burned.

Dean and Cas stared with wide, bewildered eyes at the plates of food Sam had set on the table.

Sam coughed.

"I know it's a little overcooked—"

"No, no, oh no," Dean and Cas immediately disagreed, and sat down with grim expressions.

"We could just have cereal or something," Sam offered.

"Absolutely not," Dean refused. "This looks delicious."

Cas smiled tightly.

Dean picked over his eggs. "Look at these! Nice and golden," he complimented, and turned them over. They were scorched on the bottom. "Ah," he realized. "Very golden."

Cas hefted the knife and fork arranged neatly by his plate and cut into his breakfast with a loud series of crunches. He took a bite and chewed thoroughly. "This bacon is good," he commented.

"That's a waffle," Sam said.

Cas went silent.

"Well," Dean spoke up, clearing his throat. "This was a surprise. What made you want to cook breakfast today, Sammy?"

"Oh, you know," Sam said with a shrug, scooping some eggs onto his fork. "Just thought it would be nice to talk a bit. Have some casual discussion."

Everyone quietly ate their food.

"So they think Alexander the Great might've been bisexual," Sam started. "I think that's nice. Really nice. Don't you agree, Dean?"

Dean blinked at him. "Sure, I guess," he said.

"I just think people should be more open to that sort of thing," Sam conversed, stabbing his brittle waffle with a fork. "It's kind of stupid for them not to; there's nothing wrong with it. All very natural." He eyed the other two for a moment. "I support it. Hell, I encourage it. Do you encourage it, Cas?"

Cas put his hands together. "Well, I—"

"Everyone should encourage it," Sam continued. "As a given. That would be ideal, wouldn't it? Which is why I swore to myself that I'd be the best ally to people of the LGBTQIA community I could be." He took a bite of waffle and gagged abruptly.

Dean frowned. "Sam, are you okay?"

"Me? God, yes, I'm great," Sam choked, working carefully through the helping of char sitting damply in his mouth.

"You don't have a fever or anything?"

Sam snorted. "No," he said. "You worry about me too much. That's all we've been talking about, today and yesterday. I've been hogging the spotlight."

"Yeah, because you've been cursed by a witch," Dean reminded him.

Sam ignored this. "So enough about me; I want to know what's up with you guys, actually. I feel like I never hear about what you two have been doing... Alone or... _together_..."

Cas set down his fork. "Well, a few days ago I was out in the park—"

"With Dean?" Sam cut in, propping his chin up with the back of his hand.

"No, I was alone," Cas said, and Sam retracted his hand with a disappointed noise.

"As I was saying, I was in the park and there was this dog, and he was—"

"You know," Sam interrupted, "you guys can tell me anything. And when I say anything," he waved his hand over the length of the table, "I mean _anything_. In fact, this seems like it would be a great time to make an announcement."

Dean and Cas watched him, leery. "Do you have an announcement, Sam?" Cas ventured.

Sam raised his eyebrows and turned down the corners of his mouth in an exaggerated way. "No, me? No. I actually thought maybe one of you—or both of you—," he gestured favorably between them, "had something important you, perhaps, would like to share with me."

"I don't think so," Dean answered.

"Really?" Sam said with both a skeptical face and tone. "Nothing? No...," he assumed a conspiratorial look, "... _secrets_?"

Dean furrowed his brow. "This isn't a slumber party, Sam. This is breakfast."

"If you can call it that," Cas added, poking experimentally at his toast.

Sam slumped against the back of his chair and conceded the entire affair as a lost cause. "I'll take care of the dishes," he grumbled, getting up and grabbing his plate, "and order some pizza instead."

"You don't have to do all that," Dean said, standing with his own plate in hand. He put it on top of Sam's and made to leave. "I'll order the pizza."

"Thanks," Sam deadpanned after his brother.

"I'll help you clean up," Cas volunteered.

\- - -

Sam washed the dishes while Cas dried and put them away. They worked mostly in silence, zoning out into their own separate worlds yet still functioning in perfect, harmonious unison, becoming nearly mechanical in their shared drudgery.

"It was thoughtful of you to prepare breakfast," Cas thanked him suddenly.

Sam laughed. "If you could call it that."

Cas smiled. "The intention to try something new simply to be kind to others; that's a very admirable trait."

Sam grunted and looked down a bit guiltily at the frying pan he was scrubbing, knowing full well 'being kind to others' hadn't been his intention behind cooking a breakfast for them.

"Recently," he said, pausing for a moment before deciding how he wanted to continue, "recently I've been feeling a bit out of the loop when it comes to you and Dean. Like I'm missing something."

Cas tilted his head. "That's odd, we're very open with you." He nervously wrung out a dish towel over the sink. "I wouldn't waste any time looking into that; it's probably just lasting paranoia from that witch spell."

Sam gave him a look. "You mean the witch spell inducing dizziness?"

"Yes," Cas confirmed thickly.

All right. This was getting downright insulting. _Get Them to Declare Their Undying Love for Each Other Over Scrambled Eggs and Waffles_ had been Plan A. Now it was time to bring out Plan B:

_Catch Them Being a Couple Because They Were Too Obtuse to Declare Their Undying Love for Each Other Over Scrambled Eggs and Waffles._

The names were a work in progress.


	4. Fondue in the Backseat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! Sorry this took me so long to finish! I had a hard time figuring out exactly how I wanted to end this story, and I've finally decided it will be at least five chapters long. So stick around! This case of Samnesia isn't over just yet ;)
> 
> Also I would like to thank the following people for their lovely feedback: Umbreon, Grey2510, Selahbela, Crayons_and_Quills, and Swedish_short_snout. Your support motivated me to push through my writer's block and finish chapter four.

When Sam woke up, it took him a moment to remember what existential plane he resided on because he was lying facedown on an unusual bed; a notepad at his desk. He jerked his head up and lazily rubbed the drowsiness out of his eyes as he recalled hours spent jotting down and scratching out various schemes.

He sleepily held the paper in his hands and huffed with lethargic satisfaction. Only the very best ideas had made the cut, and he finished writing them out in a neat list. Not too see-through, not too impractical; he wanted his discovery of their relationship to seem accidental and not like something he had poured an entire afternoon into planning, which would be difficult to accomplish seeing as that was exactly what he had done.

Sam carefully ripped the paper from the notepad and shoved it into his front pocket before standing up and stretching out the length of his arms, checking his watch when he brought his arms back down to his sides. It was close to dinnertime, which made him raise his eyebrows a little. He yawned and reached to scratch his back as he left his room and headed down the hallways of the Bunker to the main area.

It was quiet and empty, which didn't surprise him. It was difficult for three people to fill up such an enormous space, and it often felt like he was completely alone. He went to the kitchen, which was also empty, and took some leftover pizza from the counter back to the table in the library, where he assumed Dean and Cas would gather for dinner as well.

Except the hours ticked tediously by and they never did. Sam briefly searched the Bunker for any other signs of life and found none, so he reached into his back pocket for his phone, which also wasn't there. He returned to his seat in the library and leaned over the table to rub his temples, a headache budding with a muted sort of violence against the sides of his head.

Maybe they had gone hunting, seen something in an online newspaper and decided to check it out without him. That was possible. He dragged his laptop across the table toward himself and tapped out a quick e-mail, then headed for the Bunker's garage to see if Baby was still parked there while he waited for a response.

He was reaching for the doorknob when Dean burst through, slightly disheveled, red in the face, and laden with grocery bags.

"Where were you guys?" Sam demanded, stepping back in surprise.

Dean looked a bit taken aback to be greeted so promptly at the door. "The store," he answered almost defensively. "I sent you a text message."

Sam turned out his pockets pointedly. "I don't know where my phone is."

"Well, that's not my fault then," he said, shoving a couple bags into Sam's chest. "Here, take these." When Sam obliged reluctantly, Dean turned his head to the garage. "Cas," he called, "you good?"

"Of course, Dean," Cas said, emerging through the doorway with about ten bags in either hand and an unfazed expression on his face, like he wouldn't have minded carrying in two unrestrained alligators as well.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "What's all this stuff for?"

"Halloween," Dean reminded him as they all moved into the kitchen. "We're going to go all out this year. Witch party hats, ghost paper plates, zombie party cups; I even got some chocolate eyeball cupcakes. Picked out some lame costumes for all of us to wear—who knows? Maybe we'll even get to gank a few uglies."

Sam furrowed his brow. "Halloween? Now?"

"Yeah, well, tomorrow. You know, same day as always," Dean confirmed, moving the bags onto the counter. Sam responded with a frown.

"Check out all this cool stuff," Dean went on, dragging out some of the things he'd bought, which mostly consisted of paper dinnerware and other gimmicky one-use party items that would like end up in the trash or crumpled under a couch before the week's end.

"You are aware how pathetic it is for three middle-aged men to be hosting a Halloween party for themselves, right?" Sam sighed, inspecting a napkin with Dracula printed on it.

Dean made an exasperated noise. "Always the wet blanket. Hey," he started, rooting purposefully through his bags, "where's all the candy?"

Cas dumped his cargo, revealing a waterfall of plastic bags in all assortments of orange, purple, and black with familiar brand names plastered haphazardly throughout the mix.

Dean wiggled his fingers with evil glee. "This Halloween party is going to be great. Just wait until you see what costume I picked out for you, Sammy."

Sam peered warily into one of his bags. "I didn't think it needed to be said, but whatever you picked, I'm most certainly not wearing it."

Dean pulled out something furry and brown trapped beneath a large square of plastic with a cardboard back. "Not even this dog suit with one hundred-percent real polyester fur?" he smirked.

"Actually, it's a polyester-cotton blend," Cas corrected after a brief examination of the package.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sorry, it's still a no from me."

"I'm sure you'll come around once the holiday spirit settles in," Dean said, setting the costume down on the table.

"Holiday spirit?" Sam echoed skeptically. "That's not really a Halloween thing."

Dean huffed and began going through another bag. "You're such a Scrooge."

"Again, not Halloween."

"A real Grinch."

"Still not Halloween."

Dean looked to Cas. "Come on, man, help me out here."

Cas paused in the midst of shoving three bags of peanut M&Ms into a cupboard already cramped with candy. "He's a real Oogie Boogie," he offered.

Sam closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. "Okay, fair enough, although that's still borderline Christmas," he grumbled, "but I don't think I'm that bad just because I don't want to dress up as a dog."

Dean held up the package again and wiggled it, then pointed to the smiling, photoshopped man on the cover. "Aw come on, Sammy. Look how much fun this guy's having. Don't you want to be like him?"

"Not really," Sam admitted.

Cas shook his head sadly. "Even the Oogie Boogie would have said yes."

"It's true," Dean confirmed. "You're on a whole new level of Halloween villain, Sam, and I can't find the fondue."

"The what?" Sam asked.

Dean lifted up a plastic bag and rifled through the one underneath it. "The chocolate fondue. Cas wanted to try it."

"We even got strawberries," Cas added.

"Fruit, huh?" Sam said with a sly raise of his eyebrows.

"Shut it, dog boy," Dean snapped.

Sam eyed him. "I'm sorry, who's the one who barked at mailmen and pigeons?"

Dean looked deeply offended. "That was temporary! And I thought we agreed to never speak of that time," he said, jabbing the air with a defensive finger.

"I found the strawberries, but I don't see the fondue in any of these bags," Cas intervened. "Maybe we left it in the car."

"Oh yeah, that's right," Dean remembered. "We put one of the bags in the backseat because we couldn't fit them all in the trunk."

Sam pulled back from the table to leave, taking the keys to the Impala off the countertop nearby. "I'll go get it, you guys finish putting the other stuff away."

Cas coughed. "Er, I think it would be best if I went, Sam."

Sam waved at him and stepped through the doorway. "It's fine, Cas, I need to look for my phone anyway." Cas seemed almost nervous as he watched Sam go, but hung back.

Sam made his way back to the garage, then walked up to the parked '67 Chevy Impala that only looked a bit worn from the recent traveling. He opened up the door to the back and immediately saw the abandoned grocery bag slumped dejectedly on the far end of the seat. He reached over and grabbed it, then began moving his hand along the edges of the seat in search of his phone.

When this proved fruitless, he tried underneath the seat, and managed to wrap his fingers around something thin, lengthy, and soft. Curious, he pulled it out and discovered it was a blue tie. It looked like Cas's, which was odd, since the angel had little need to change his clothes and rarely ever did. Why one of his ties would be lying under the backseat of the Impala in a crumpled heap was beyond him. Unless...

Sam went pale and automatically dropped the tie on the floor of the car, not certain if any undressing for pleasure had taken place, but unwilling to risk it. He considered leaving it there and forgetting he'd ever seen it, but then had a better idea. He came around to the back of the car and unlocked the trunk, where he found his phone lying beside the paper towel roll there.

"Really?" he huffed, shoving his phone in his pocket and grabbing a square of paper towel. He shut the trunk and returned to the backseat, then gingerly picked up the tie as if handling irradiated ore with a pair of tongs. With his free hand, he scooped up the missing grocery bag and carried both the bag and the potentially-contaminated tie back to the kitchen.

Dean and Cas snapped their attention to the doorway when Sam reappeared, looking as if they had been having an argument or a mutual panic. When their eyes fell on the tie in Sam's left hand, they grew visibly flustered.

"Ah," Cas said and stood up, awkward and suspiciously tie-less, before he made his way over to Sam. "I've been looking for that."

Sam narrowed his eyes at them. Perhaps this would mark the end of the secrets. "What's this?" he demanded in a way that suggested he already knew.

"It's a tie," Cas answered, taking it from Sam mindfully by the part covered with the paper towel.

"What was it doing under the backseat of the Impala?" Sam interrogated.

"I don't know," Cas breathed, "it probably just slipped off."

"It slipped off?" Sam repeated blankly.

"Yes," Cas said. "While I was putting away the groceries."

Dean cleared his throat. "These things happen," he offered. Cas nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, okay," Sam said, pursing his lips, "I might've believed that if you two weren't acting so weird. Look, I know what's going on—"

Cas rounded on Dean, interrupting Sam. "See, I told you, Dean! I told you he'd find out about it!"

Dean flushed. "Well, it isn't my fault! You're the one who left the tie in the car!"

Sam was both relieved and alarmed, but mostly relieved. "I'm just glad you two are finally admitting it," he said. "I mean, it's really nothing to fight over. It's not like I would've gotten mad or anything, you two should've known that."

Dean and Cas exchanged a surprised look. "You aren't mad?" they said simultaneously.

Sam frowned. "No, of course not! What kind of a person do you think I am?"

Dean came up to Sam and slapped him on the back. "That's pretty big of you, Sam. It's not every man who would remain calm upon discovering that the two people closest to him planned to dunk one of his ties in toilet water and have him wear it."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Wait, what?"

Cas chuckled and put a hand on Sam's shoulder opposite Dean. "I was worried you'd find out before we would be able to follow the prank through, but I never imagined it would be because I accidentally left your tie in the car."

"But the tie isn't mine," Sam sputtered. "It's yours! You and Dean—"

"—were planning a stupid prank," Cas finished, "yes. We were only going to go through with it if you hadn't worn whatever Halloween costume we had picked for you to wear tomorrow," he assured Sam.

Dean nodded. "The tie was from the FBI suit you'd packed. When the laundry from our trip had finished during your nap, I got the idea for the prank, and Cas took the tie to the car with us because we didn't want you to find the tie if you woke up while we were still at the store. Unfortunately, Einstein here forgot to take the tie back out of the car when we came back to the Bunker."

"But Cas isn't—"

"—wearing my tie," Cas agreed. "I know. That was the cover-up in case something did go wrong with the plan. I was to pretend my tie had gone missing should you accidentally find out what we were up to. I tried to get you to believe the story just now, but somehow you knew it was phony. I have to hand it to you, Sam," Cas conceded, "you don't let anyone pull the wool over your eyes."

Dean patted Sam on the shoulder. "We'll wash your tie so it's not all messed up from being stepped on and stuff."

Dean and Cas adjourned with the rumpled tie still cradled in the paper towel, leaving Sam with the distinct feeling he had just been fed a very improvised lie. The only trouble was it was also a very sound improvised lie, but that wasn't going to stop him from getting the truth eventually. The hour was too late now, but in the morning he would set Plan B into action.


	5. The Haunting of Cottage Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions/suggestions of homophobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it finally is! The last chapter! Sorry it took me so long to finish :P Hope you enjoy it despite the long wait :)
> 
> Thanks to Umbreon, Crayons_and_Quills, swedish_short_snout, and guests Alfie and Missy PA for their feedback on the last chapter!

Sam entered the library where Dean and Cas had settled in for some breakfast. When they noticed him, Dean waved him over and gestured for him to take a seat. There were a couple cups of coffee and an open and partially-looted box of doughnuts on the table amidst a sea of Halloween decorations. Sam sat down and pushed aside a hairy spider decoration wearily.

"After breakfast, you can help me and Cas set all this stuff up," Dean proposed and took a swig from his coffee mug, swallowing hurriedly as he remembered something.

"Before I forget," he added, "here's your tie." He handed Sam a clean, blue tie that had been slung over the edge of the table.

"Thanks," Sam huffed, annoyed at the reminder of how little they trusted him. Not knowing what else to do with it, he set the tie back down on the table and wondered where they had gotten it from, silently promising himself that when this was all over, he'd sit down and familiarize himself with the contents of his closet so no one would be able to pull anything like this on him again.

Sam grabbed a doughnut. "So is that all we have planned for today? Interior decorating?" he huffed, pulling his laptop over and propping it up to see if more interesting things were happening elsewhere.

Dean shrugged. "Pretty much. Why, did you have something else in mind?"

"Not really...," Sam started, then trailed off deliberately. "Oh, hey. Whoa."

Cas furrowed his brow. "What is it, Sam?"

Sam frowned and read the headline off his screen: "Teenage Couple Go Missing, Appear Two Days Later, Claim They Were Held Hostage By Ghost."

Dean leaned forward. "What does the article say?" he prompted.

"Hold on," said Sam, eyes zipping back and forth as he prepared a summary. "It says that Eveline Loager and Chris Hallows, aged 17 and 16 respectively, went to an old, abandoned summer cottage on a dare and weren't seen again until yesterday evening, when they ran into a local police station in a disheveled state swearing they'd been kidnapped by a ghost. The local PD aren't taking their account seriously, as both have family issues and are suspected of trying to give their families a scare. It looks like they made attempts to run away together before," Sam explained.

Dean pulled himself back in his chair and tapped a finger on the table. "If nobody's believing these kids, why should we?"

"Because the best thing we have to do otherwise is tape paper bats to our walls," Sam pointed out, then shrugged. "It's not far; two-hour drive tops. If their story doesn't check out, we'd make it back well before the afternoon is over."

Cas nodded. "It does seem strange that they would try to sell some story about ethereal kidnappers."

Dean shrugged. "I mean, teenagers don't necessarily do things that make sense, but," he shoved the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, "if you guys want to investigate, let's go."

\- - -

They were seated in an open circle of lumpy upholstered chairs covered in flower patterns and doilies, surrounded on all sides by an aggressive amount of curio cabinets and photographs of smiling children. Mrs. Loager, a widow at 72, sat amidst this kingdom upon her throne, which assumed the smell and shape of a sagging, green sewing chair.

Sam cleared his throat and eyed the framed picture of a nine-year-old poised vampiricly behind his neck. "We appreciate you taking the time to answer our questions on such short notice, Mrs. Loager."

Mrs. Loager squinted at them through her large glasses. "Of course, Reverend Goodswith. It's about time someone came to do something about the poor girl. She's a lost soul in need of guidance. Of course, I never imagined she would need the combined efforts of three priests," Sam, Dean, and Cas glanced at each other guiltily, "but such as it is with those lead astray," her voice broke off and she leaned forward urgently, "by the _Devil_."

The three priests made quick and vigorous agreement with this reason.

Mrs. Loager took a sip of tea to compose herself. "Eveline," she said, troubled by the name, "lost her parents three years ago in a car accident with a drunk trucker. Man was never caught or charged, and my husband and I became her guardians; then George died of stroke seventeen months ago."

The widow paused to pull a handkerchief from some unseen pocket to another dimension and dabbed her face with it. "She has no other living family now, and she was never fond of me. I think she comes back with these wild stories to see if she can hospitalize me with a heart attack." Mrs. Loager chuckled, but her milky eyes darted across the room paranoidly.

"Thank you for telling us all this," Dean coughed politely. "Could you tell us where Eveline is right now?"

"She's at that accursed diner," Mrs. Loager sniffed disapprovingly, "where she fraternizes with all sorts of godless types, like that delinquent Hallows." She crossed herself. "God save my Eveline."

\- - -

Eveline pulled the cigarette out from between her yellow teeth, blowing smoke into the faces of the men seated opposite her at the rubbery, blue booth. She inspected them with inexpressive, sunken eyes outlined by dusty, smudged eyeliner and wheezed out a laugh.

"So," she said, "my intervention party has arrived."

Sam set his arms on the table in an earnest gesture. "We just want to talk to you about your kidnapping, if that's okay."

Eveline snorted. "If you want to try and sell me some of that 'find solace in God's grace and guidance' crap, lemme tell you right now how much you're wasting your time."

Cas shook his head. "We want to find your ghosts," he explained, "and see if we can prevent them from harming anyone else."

Eveline smiled wryly. "God's Holy Ghostbusters, huh? That's real cute. All right," she agreed, taking a drag from her cigarette, "but I want my partner here."

"Of course," Dean said.

"Chris!" Eveline shouted, and a large, muscular girl wearing an actual flower crown and at least a dozen earrings approached their booth from the far end of the diner and slid in beside her. Eveline pulled her into a kiss, opening an eye only to peer challengingly at the three priests. When she didn't get a reaction, she pulled back, pecked Chris on the nose, which was freckled by a few other piercings, and fell back into her seat to fix the bun in her hair, which somehow became even less seemly with the attention.

"What the fuck," Chris said in a completely reactionary tone, as if the priests had just finished winking into existence. "Are these dudes bothering you, Ev?" She looked more than capable of Doing Something About It.

Eveline wrinkled her nose. "I don't know yet. They smell like hag. You been to my grandma's?" she demanded.

"Well, yes," Cas admitted.

"Then fuck you," Eveline spat, and pressed herself anxiously against Chris, who wrapped her arms around her.

"But we only want to help—" Cas started, but Eveline cut him off.

"Help what?" she snapped. "Help convert me? Help 'cure' me? That's it, right?" she growled. "Assholes. Get out of here."

Sam shook his hands. "No, that's not it at all," he rushed to clarify. "We're only here to learn more about your kidnapping. We did contact your grandmother, but we didn't come to talk to you because of her. This is all strictly about the case."

Dean aided him. "When we heard the police weren't going to help, we decided to take matters into our own hands."

Eveline studied them through narrowed eyes, calmer now. "You're not real priests, are you?" she said.

"What—"

Eveline shrugged and tapped the ash off the end of her cigarette. "It's not hard to tell. You lot make for very bad fakes. So I'll cooperate. I don't know who you are or why the fuck you're cosplaying as hot priests, but as long as you want to get rid of that psychotic ghost, I don't care."

The Winchesters looked between each other.

"Great," Sam said. "Any information you can give us would help."

\- - -

Eveline parked her rusty pick-up in front of a weathered summer cottage in an old, overgrown field; a dark secret vaulted behind a winding series of backroads and dirt paths.

"This is it," she announced. "Kaese Cottage."

"How did you find this place?" Dean said as they all got out of the car.

Chris answered. "Everybody knows where it is. It's one of those local legend-type places, with the dumb nickname and lame backstory and everything. Haunted Cottage Cheese, where an old man locked his son and his son's girlfriend in the cellar because he disapproved of their relationship."

"Weird fucker," Eveline murmured under her breath as she sucked on another cigarette.

"Couples are dared to spend a night here all the time," Chris continued, wrapping her jacket about herself. "It's supposed to be the ultimate test, like, 'Oh, Crazy Kaese approves of your love'. Like a way of telling how good your relationship is."

"Stupid shit," Eveline summarized matter-of-factly.

Chris watched the house. "Everyone we know has gone in and out no problem. Stayed the night and walked free the next morning."

Eveline nodded. "Two boys in our literature class, Mitch and Nick, they were dared to go. But they said before they got inside, they saw the pasty face of an old man, staring back at them through one of the ground-level windows. So they didn't go in. We all laughed and gave them shit for it then, but god, do I believe them now." She shuddered and leaned into Chris.

"And, you know, that's where we were trapped," she murmured into her girlfriend's jacket. "The cellar. Like it'd been waiting there for us."

\- - -

"You know something," Dean said conversationally to Cas as they rejoined Sam at a table inside a little eat-in deli, "I forgot Chris was a girl's name. Find anything?" he prompted his brother, who been left with the laptop while they'd gone in line to order at the counter.

Sam shrugged. "All that came up was Tumblr posts from local users, just the same retelling we heard from the girls: 'Lawrence Kaese and his girlfriend Taylor Blanche were locked in the cottage cellar by Lawrence's father when he discovered the two of them together there.'" He shook his head. "It doesn't get much more specific than that."

Dean snorted. "Helpful," he commented.

Cas put his arms up on the table and considered the situation. "Do we pursue the case further?"

"We don't have much to go on," Sam admitted, "but something scared those girls. They didn't seem to be lying to me."

"No," Cas agreed. "We'll go to the cottage then and see if we can't find anything there."

Dean raised a finger. " _After_ lunch."

\- - -

They stepped through the threshold and illuminated slivers of the cottage's interior with their flashlights. It was dead inside; a quiet, empty shell containing little else than rotted wooden furniture and a musty smell. They spread out across the main room, penetrating the darkened area with weak, white light.

"I'm going to go down into the cellar. You guys search around up here," Sam proposed, but it was more of an order than a suggestion and he'd already left.

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. "Scream if you find anything," he called after his brother and flicked his flashlight over a dilapidated sofa.

"Hey," he said, glancing over at Cas, "want to make out on this thing?"

Cas gave him a look. "We're in the middle of a hunt, Dean," he reminded his husband, turning away to examine a dusty dresser. "We need to ensure there are no ghosts in this area and _then_ make out on the broken furniture."

Dean grinned. "Works for me."

They worked their way through the small cottage area, but the only interesting things to note were the footprints on the dusty wooden floors and the other signs of reckless teenage life.

Dean shrugged. "Doesn't look like there's anything here, so—" He gently took hold of Cas's hand and let the suggestion hang in the air.

Cas cupped his face with his free hand and leaned forward to bring him into a soft kiss.

Something thunked behind them and they quickly pulled away.

"Goddammit, Sam," Dean muttered under his breath, and waved his flashlight around to locate a doorway. "Did you find anything, then?" he demanded of the moldy frame.

A ghost filled the space, billowing in the night breeze that seeped into the drafty cottage.

Dean swore and spun around to search for something to arm himself with. "Don't keep your eyes off it, Cas," he said, like they were dealing with a large spider, and stepped into the den to grab the poker from the cold fireplace there. He rushed back to Cas's side and brandished his new weapon.

The ghost screamed and jumped back. "What the hell!" it shouted, and tore off the bedsheet covering its body to reveal a tidier version of Eveline Loager. "Have you lost it??"

Dean lowered the poker. "Eveline?" he shouted. "What are you doing here?"

Eveline squinted at him indignantly. "I work here, bozo. Now would you put that fucking thing down?"

"Evie, what happened? I was just about to get the spooky soundtrack going," said another voice, and Chris Hallows entered the room. She noticed the poker in Dean's hand. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, these guys are nuts," Eveline snapped.

Chris took her hand and addressed Dean and Cas aggressively. "You jerks always like this at haunted houses?"

The two men looked between each other with bewildered expressions.

"You mean," Dean said to the girls slowly, "this is one of those fake haunted houses?"

Chris rolled her eyes. "Uh, duh? Didn't you help your tall friend pick this mystery out in our online catalogue?"

"Your what?" Cas said, stupefied.

" _Pick?_ " Dean repeated.

"Goodbye," said Eveline, and stormed past them to leave.

Sam jumped enthusiastically into the doorway, holding a tattered photograph of two boys. "Guys!" he exclaimed, waving the photo. "I know how the ghost is selecting its victims!"

He gave a start as Eveline pushed by him. She turned to face the three of them. "You know, you've completely ruined the homophobic ghost mystery for me," she said, and made a vicious slicing gesture with both of her arms. " _Ruined._ "

"The what-now ghost?" Dean said incredulously as Eveline disappeared.

Chris followed after her girlfriend, snatching the photograph from Sam. "Our prop, thank you," she growled, and vanished into the dark beyond the reach of their flashlights.

Dean and Cas stared at Sam, who offered a nervous grin and a little wave.

\- - -

They had beaten him again. His glorious plan had failed.

Sam moped through the Bunker, defeated, and went into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. He miserably parted two slices of bread from the loaf and, with great sadness, applied the cheese and lettuce.

Just as he was about to take a bite out of it, thumps sounded from Cas's bedroom like a chorus of excited rabbits. God, he thought with a pained expression, they're not even subtle.

He couldn't stand it any longer. He marched down the hallways, following the sound of bumps and grunting until he was standing before a vigilant door. He raised a fist to knock it, then shook the intention from his hand and let it instead flutter apprehensively at his side. He breathed, in and out, before blinding himself with one arm and bursting into the room with his other.

"Aha!" he screamed, pointing at random into the room, "so you _are_ in love!"

"No," Cas drawled, "we're moving furniture."

"Yes," Sam yelped, "because you're in—" He paused and tentatively lowered his arm. Dean and Cas stood in front of him, a loveseat held between them.

Sam cleared his throat.

Dean looked at Cas. "What time is it?" he asked, and they set the loveseat on the floor together.

"It's approximately one minute to midnight," Cas answered, checking his phone.

Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Okay, Sammy. You know something's up, and you deserve the truth. The truth, because," he searched for an interesting way to put it and gave up, "because that's what it is," he pointed with his finger importantly, "that you deserve. Because truth is an absolute, and absolutes are really something we should all get to have. Especially you. Am I making sense?"

"No but I'll nod my head anyway," Sam compromised.

Dean nodded and put his hands together. "So the truth is that me and Cas, well, we—" He noticed Cas, who was making frantic looping motions with his hands, and froze.

Sam furrowed his brow. "You and Cas...?" he prompted.

Dean scrambled for something. "Move furniture together, yes. That is something we do, er, regularly." He looked over at Cas, who held his hand up. Wait.

Sam frowned. "What, like as a business?"

Cas gave the OK and Dean pulled his husband into a one-armed hug. "As like a couple," he said, and they grinned at Sam.

The spell broke. Sam blinked at them, stunned by a sudden flood of memories, then smirked.

"Knew it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's a wrap! Thank you all so much for reading and supporting my fic. :) It was super fun to write and I hope the ending was satisfying.
> 
> Any feedback you have is much appreciated! Love hearing from my readers <3


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